I had just lost my 12 y.o. Yorkie rescue which suffered from seperation anxiety so bad...after I lost her, I realized I had it, too. My dog groomer for 15 years calls me up to come to her shop where she has this fluffy little intact registered Yorkie male 7 months old who had been horribly mistreated & basically thrown away. A lady she knew brought the pup & the papers in to her shop to do "whatever" with. This was 10 days after I'd lost my Macey so my heart was not open or ready to love, but my Groomer knew I had a soft spot for Yorkies & rescues & she knew me...she says, "Donna, help me get this little fella ready for a new home. He has issues & he needs to be helped before we can properly place him". So, took home the pup sat him down in the yard...he would not move...an intact male terrier...not "following" his nose, oh my, he did have issues. I'd decided I would not "name" him because I would not "love" him, just help him...yea right. Two months later, he was running about the yard, playing with his big sister, loving his treats & doing wonderful with learning new things like manners & house breaking. But, he had no name.... I called my Groomer to make an appointment for him & discuss his recovery...she asked his name for her appointment book...uh, hrm...out of my mouth comes "Hoke". For those of you who've seen Driving Miss Daisy, you'll know...my favorite line is when she says, "Hoke, you're my best friend." Hoke had saved me from my depression & I had saved him.